


The Apothecary Around The Corner

by tygermine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hawthorn_vine, F/M, fusion - Harry Potter and Black Books, treasured tropes - 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has an apothecary and an online friend. What happens when his shop is in danger and his online friendship becomes complicated?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apothecary Around The Corner

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 H&V Treasured Tropes challenge.  
> Trope based on You've Got Mail

Draco’s days weren’t the most exciting he’d ever lived after the war, but it suited him better than he’d expected. He owned a small neighbourhood apothecary, lived in the flat above it and kept to himself. He had left Wiltshire right after the war and moved where people didn’t really know who he was. The anonymity was welcome after the circus that resulted from the end of the war.

 

He had named his shop The Apothecary Around The Corner. It bordered the Muggle and Wizarding worlds of Edinburgh, so his clientele was a hodgepodge of muggle tourists, hippy types who bought all his sage incense, and wizarding locals. He wore his hair short and dark, using a glamour to hide the tell-tale white blonde.

 

Every morning he’d wake up, make a cup of Earl Grey tea, get dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and go downstairs to open the shop. During the day he’d help his customers, share lunch with the grouchy book seller next door, which consisted of wine and cigarettes, and the occasional chip bap from the fry up across the road. In the evenings, he’d spend his time in the back room perfecting potions and inventing new ones.

 

It was a simple existence. 

 

And it was made that much sweeter when he’d receive an owl with an anonymous letter attached.

 

He sat on his roof terrace, the late summer sun casting the world in shades of amber. He was halfway through his supper when the owl crash landed in his roof top herb garden, scaring off a few gnomes who retreated behind the tomato vines. Bernard Black eyed the owl with weary eyes and held his wineglass a little tighter.

 

The owl jumped up, shook off the loose soil and few stray leaves and did a semi fly-hop- jump move onto the table where Draco sat.

 

“That owl is a menace,” Bernard said, killing his cigarette and lighting a new one.

 

Draco shrugged.

 

“Who gets post by owl anyway? It’s so old fashioned,” He continued, tilting the bottle to fill up their wineglasses. A single drop fell. “Manny! Manny!” he shouted.

 

A portly man with unfortunate facial hair and a bald spot ran through the roof access door. “Yes Bernard?”

 

“Wine. We need more wine,” Bernard waved the bottle around, nearly hitting both Draco and Manny with it.

 

Manny nodded and ran back inside. He reappeared a few minutes later with a new bottle, followed by Mack Duffy, Draco’s shop assistant. A portly, bespectacled squib with a smart mouth, and a sharp eye for numbers.

 

Bernard waved the glasses at Manny impatiently as he struggled to open the wine bottle. Mack sighed, grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap open. Manny smiled sheepishly. 

 

Draco ignored the shenanigans and carefully removed the letter from the owl’s claw, before feeding it an owl treat. After taking a sip of wine, he opened the letter and began to read.

 

_Dear Friend,_

_I’m online._

Draco’s eyes lit up and he moved to stand up.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bernard pointed a cigarette clutched between two fingers at him.

 

“None of your business, Black.” Draco growled.

 

“I bet it’s a letter from his sweetheart,” Manny gushed. “So romantic.”

 

Bernard scowled at Manny. “Rubbish,” his Irish brogue thick. “No one has sweethearts anymore.”

 

“Dennis has,” Manny pointed out. 

 

“I still don’t understand why you talk to this person,” Mack said, helping himself to a glass of wine, despite Bernard’s glare and mutter about that being why the wine was always finished. “You get this random letter one day addressed to the universe and you, Mr Universe, reply. It’s well dodgy if you ask me.”

 

“I didn’t,” Draco sniffed, folding the letter and pushing into his back jean pocket. That first letter had sounded so heartbroken, so lost, that he couldn’t not reply. He could still remember the words; 

_Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void._

 

Draco had penned a response and sent it back with the accident prone owl. The next day, it arrived on his roof terrace with another letter. And so a friendship of sorts had begun.

 

“And now that you’ve discovered Skype, well, it’s just going to snowball until you’re caught in a mess. What kind of relationship exists on the internet? Fake ones. Dennis, you’re setting yourself up for a major disappointment. People who are on the internet to meet other people only do so because they have some gross thing that makes going out in public a problem.” Mack felt the need to point out.

 

“Internet, bah!” Bernard grouched, his face pinched in a scowl. “Don’t trust the stuff.”

 

“So you’re saying I’m too ugly to go out in public?” Draco felt like baiting Mack.

 

Mack squinted at his boss. He wasn’t ugly per se. A bit on the tall side. Skinny too. Far too pale. But if the customer’s reaction was anything to go by, apparently he was good looking. “Could use some work,” he muttered. 

 

Draco shrugged, stood up and left his friends on the roof. 

 

Once inside, he settled on his couch with his laptop.

 

The Muggle contraption had been a mystery to Draco. The idea to actually own one was brought on by tourists asking for his email and website details. The first time it happened, Draco blinked at them owlishly while Mack giggled behind the newt eyes.

 

Mack had then explained about the internet and helped Draco buy and set up his laptop. He mentioned in passing that the internet had been invented for porn and then taught Draco how to erase his browser history, as Mack did not want to stumble upon it when he had to do the month end accounting.

 

Draco had spent days staring at the laptop as it sat on his desk. 

 

Now, he flips it open and logs on to Skype within seconds.

 

There she was. HerbyNerd. And Draco’s heart sped up.

 

**HerbyNerd:** You there?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** Yes, I’m here.

 

Draco hated his chat name, but Bernard had typed it in before Draco could stop him and he still hadn’t figured out how to change it. When he asks Mack, all he gets in return is an exasperated eye roll.

 

**HerbyNerd:** Hi! *waves* Did I interrupt?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** no, but your owl made a good attempt to destroy my opal basil. How can you keep such a menace of a bird?

 

**HerbyNerd:** Sorry, hope the damage isn’t too bad.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** they’ll survive. I hope. What brings you online?

 

**HerbyNerd** : just needed to talk to someone sane. Things are crazy over here.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** Remember, we decided no personal details.

 

**HerbyNerd:** I know. I just…yeah. So, how was your day?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** Same old. Lost a few galleons on the Harpies game.

 

**HerbyNerd:** I told you not to bet on them this week. The beater has morning sickness.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** how do you even know that?

 

**HerbyNerd:** bugger! I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** wait, you know someone on the harpies?

 

**HerbyNerd:** Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** smooth.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** it’s ok. Not too hot where I am.

 

**HerbyNerd:** boiling here. I’ve had to rely on cooling charms on top of the air conditioner.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** Muggle tech is very unreliable. Take this laptop for example. I ask it to search for baby aloe suppliers and it gives me lists of people shagging.

 

**HerbyNerd:** Google was not your friend then.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** evidently not.

 

**HerbyNerd:** you know the best thing about summer?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** the flies?

 

**HerbyNerd:** the smell of freshly cut grass. 

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** jasmine pockets when you walk down the street.

 

**HerbyNerd:** So, I read that book you suggested. It has some interesting concepts.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : as long as you enjoyed it.

 

**HerbyNerd:** I did. It made a nice change from my usual reading material.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** which is?

 

**HerbyNerd:** boring boring stuff.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** my friend says that sometimes, with all the classics out there, you occasionally need something trashy and fun to read. In all fairness, he thinks this means Dangerous Liaisons.

 

**HerbyNerd:** I like the classics too, but read them all as a kid, so yeah; the break with some fun is great. 

 

**HerbyNerd:** who do you think she’ll end up with? Morelli or Ranger?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** the question of the ages, that.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** personally, I’m rooting for Ranger.

 

**HerbyNerd:** but he’s so inaccessible!

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** maybe he’s just hanging back, waiting for her to make up her mind?

 

**HerbyNerd:** I’m going to have to get the next book and see how it goes.

 

When Draco looked up, it was well past midnight and he had a shipment of Russian Mistletoe coming in early the next morning. He said goodbye and logged off. Feeling light on his feet, he brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. There was something about HerbyNerd that put a smile on his face.

 

***

 

Draco was not smiling as he carted box after box of Russian Mistletoe into the basement. Mack was missing and technically it was his job to do the heavy lifting.

 

When the last box was shoved in a corner and the delivery note signed, Draco glanced outside and saw Mack, Manny and Bernard leaning against the bicycle rail outside. A cloud of cigarette smoke hung over them.

 

He snorted and pushed his shop door open, causing the bell to tinkle. He walked up to the men and frowned. “I didn’t realize I pay you to stand around looking idle, Mack.” Draco was trying for his best “boss” voice. 

 

Mack smiled and shrugged. Obviously the voice needed work.

 

“Those bastards,” Bernard said, swigging at the wine bottle he held.

 

“What bastards?” Draco asked and stepped past them into the street, looking in the direction they were staring. His jaw dropped. Plastered against the empty shop front across the intersection was a sign, large as life.

 

_Coming Soon: Gaia’s Pantry_

_Just Around The Corner…_

Draco saw red and stormed across the intersection, ignoring the hooting of taxis and the shrill ringing of bicycle bells. He stood in front of the sign, clenching his fists. Mack, Manny and Bernard followed at a more sedate pace and joined him on the sidewalk. Without a word, Mack lit a cigarette he nicked from Bernard and handed it to Draco. 

 

“What. The. Fuck?” Draco bit out between angry puffs.

 

“Looks like we’ve got competition,” Mack said.

 

“Competition?” Bernard frowned, killing a cigarette against the sign and lighting a new one. 

 

“Yeah. Gaia’s Pantry is this huge chain that caters to the new age hippy muggles and the more free thinking magical community. You know, the kind that read _The Quibbler_.” Mack said.

 

“Excellent publication,” Bernard muttered. “So, does this mean Dennis is going to go out of business?”

 

“Possibly,” Mack said.

 

They turned to leave, Bernard already veering towards the Tops across the street. 

 

“Who’s Gaia?” Manny asked and turned around to realize they’d abandoned him. He quickly scuttled back to the safety of the bookstore.

 

**  

 

Later that night, they gathered on the roof. Draco was in a rage that had simmered all day and was now pacing the width of the roof terrace, arms flying and shouting out curses at random. Mack had kept his glass full and Bernard supplied the cigarettes, despite not really understanding how dire the situation was.

 

He leaned towards Mack. “I don’t really see how this could kill his business. We’ve had a Borders and a Waterstone’s open and close within six months on this street.”

 

“That’s because you hid dead rats under the shelves,” Mack said.

 

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Bernard reasoned and puffed happily on his cigarette.

 

Draco must have finally tired of shouting at the heavens and slumped in a seat, pulling a bottle of wine closer. He took a sip, grimaced, looked at the label and swopped it for another bottle. Red this time.

 

“So, what’s the plan of action, boss?” Mack asked.

 

“We fight this. It’s bullshit. I’m not going to be pushed around by some corporate asshole,” Draco said, taking a battle stance, eyes flashing.

 

“Wankers,” Bernard spat.

 

Draco couldn’t agree more.

 

“Do you have a plan?” Manny asked, opening another bottle of wine. Mack stood with his back against the small wall, arms crossed and a frown marring his features.

 

“Nothing illegal,” Draco stated, “but I have a few ideas that might have potential.”

 

***

 

Draco had been in a quietly murderous mood since he’d seen the sign. The doorbell tinkled and upon looking up, saw the one person who sent his blood pressure through the roof.

 

Mack quickly intersected the customer, enquiring if she needed any help.

 

“No,” she shook her head. “Just browsing.”

 

What the hell was Granger doing in his store? He decided to man up and hide in the cellar. That new shipment of Dirigible Plum Seeds wasn’t going to count itself.

 

He was just getting stuck into the second carton when Mack shouted down the stairs.

 

“Boss! Customer upstairs.”

 

“Deal with them yourself!” He shouted back.

 

“Nope, asked to see the manager and you don’t pay me enough to claim that title!”

 

Draco grumbled as he climbed the stairs, promising himself that he was going to have to re-train Mack on the employer/employee rules of conduct.

 

He stepped behind the counter and watched for a few seconds as Granger poked around his crystal display. Mack cleared his throat loudly, catching Granger’s attention.

 

“Here he is,” Mack said, hooking a thumb in Draco’s direction.

 

When her eyes landed on him, they widened.

 

“Malfoy?” she gasped.

 

“Malfoy?” Mack asked. “No, this is Dennis. Dennis MacDrall.”

 

Granger nodded slowly, keeping eye contact with Draco, her face lit with questions.

 

“Mack, go finish taking inventory downstairs.”

 

For once, Mack kept his mouth shut and did as instructed. Draco decided to buy him a bottle of wine later.

 

“So,” Granger leant against the glass counter. “Dennis, right? You can change your hair colour, but I’d recognize that Malfoy face anywhere.”

 

“Shut it Granger. What do you want?”

 

She shrugged. “I was just in the neighbourhood and the shop caught my eye. Can’t believe it’s yours.” She picked up a small statue of Merlin, flipped it over to read the price and frowned. “How’s business been?”

 

“Pretty good,” Draco had found his voice. “Not that it’s any of yours.”

 

“You have a very good selection here, bit pricey bu-“

 

He cut her off. “If you’ve come in here just to insult me, then you can bloody well bugger off back to London.”

 

“I…I didn’t mean to insult your shop, Malfoy. I was complimenting it. Obviously you’re still a sodding wanker. Good to know things haven’t changed much.”

 

“What do you want, Granger?”

 

“Nothing you can offer.” With a huff, she left the store, banging the door for good measure.

 

Mack appeared out of nowhere.

 

“So, who’s this Malfoy bloke she was going on about?” he asked, straightening the crystal display.

 

“Don’t play dumb,” Draco snapped and began rearranging the bottles of Veritaserum on the shelf.

 

“I heard that during the war some bloke called Malfoy was responsible for a lot of the shit. Any relation?”

 

“My father. And that is the end of the story.” Draco needed air, and raced upstairs to the roof terrace, stopping only when he reached the end wall, gripping it tightly. There were too many questions, and not enough answers.

 

After a few deep, calming breaths, he went back inside and grabbed his laptop, booting it up and opening the browser window. He paused for a second before typing in Gaia’s Pantry into the search box. Almost immediately, he was hit with a list of various references to the store. He clicked on the first one and it took him to the store’s website. He clicked on various tabs until he came across the company information.

 

“Bloody hell,” he gasped.

 

There, in a hi-resolution picture stood a smiling Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini. They were business partners and owned Gaia’s Pantry.

 

That bitch was on a scouting mission. She was going to close his business. 

 

Draco had to make plans.

 

His chat box pinged, putting his scheming on pause.

 

**HerbyNerd:** you there?

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** yeah.

 

**HerbyNerd:** I’ve just had the worst day ever.

 

Draco huffed a laugh.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** I doubt it could top mine.

 

**HerbyNerd:** maybe. Want to go first?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** this requires wine.

 

He got up, opened a bottle of pinotage and drank straight from it, foregoing a glass.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : right, where to start. I just found out that I might be out of business any day now.

 

**HerbyNerd:** That’s awful!

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : your news?

 

**HerbyNerd:** just a blast from the past ruined my day. You’d think people would grow and change, but no. some people never change.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : I understand that.

 

**HerbyNerd:** in better news, I may have found a book you might not have read.

 

By the time Draco went to bed, Granger’s imminent destruction of his life was at the back of his mind. Instead, he decided to ask Bernard who, exactly, Chuck Palahniuk was and why his books were so great.

 

***

 

“Great? Great? It’s a travesty to writing! A joke! A fucking embarrassment!” Bernard raged, cigarette clutched in between two fingers, glass of wine in the other. Obviously Bernard was observing happy hour in Japan.

 

Draco held up his cup of coffee as if to fend off Bernard’s ranting.

 

“A foul mouthed journalist who chronicles his drug fuelled debauchery and claims that as literature. I would class it just below those books about the vampires that sparkle.” Bernard shot a deadly glare at the display Manny had lovingly set up in the window, as if trying to make the entire thing spontaneously combust with the power of his mind.

 

“Okay then, I’ll just find the footnotes,” Draco compromised.

 

“Do that. What are you going to do about Gaia’s Pantry?” Bernard asked the million galleon question.

 

Draco sighed. “I’m not sure. I have ideas, but they would inevitably lead to prison.”

 

“Nonsense,” Manny piped up from the corner where he was trying to remove the snails from the pipes – again. “I was speaking to Mrs Naidoo at the chippy and she said that we should start a neighborhood protest against the shop. She said it’ll pave the way for other big chains to move in and before you know it, you’ll be tripping over Starbucks cups and McDonalds wrappers.”

 

Bernard stared at Manny as if he’d sprouted a second head.

 

“Bollocks,” he said. “Protests are for foreigners and Americans. We’ll handle this the same way we handle most stuff in Ireland.” An evil glint came to his eye. “We’ll blow it up!”

 

Draco choked on his coffee. “I hardly think going to prison for blowing up a shop is worth it.”

 

“Well, we could always hijack their deliveries. No stock, no trade, eh?” Mack suggested.

 

“And where, pray tell, will we hide this stolen loot?” Draco pointed out.

 

Mack just stared at him.

 

“No, we will not store it in my basement.”

 

“What if…” Manny began.

 

Draco had to put an end to this madness.

 

“No, we are going to do this properly. I’m sure it’s illegal to set up two businesses of the same nature on the same street. Besides, they stole my shop name.”

 

“Go down fighting!” Bernard shouted.

 

“Exactly.” Draco said.

 

“How about talking to them?” Manny said, flicking a snail into the bucket and wiping the slime on his trousers.

 

“Talk? To them? Don’t be stupid Manny,” Bernard snapped. “They’re incapable of compromising. We must remove them by force.”

 

Draco had had enough. He took his coffee and went to open his shop for the morning rush, leaving Mack, Manny and Bernard to exhaust themselves on bad ideas in the safety of the bookstore.

 

Granger was leaning against the shop door waiting for him.

 

“Go away,” Draco said through clenched teeth.

 

“It’s a free country,” Granger sniffed, stepping aside so he could reach the door. He caught a faint whiff of peaches.

 

“Then feel free to take you sodding shop and move it elsewhere,” he said, slamming the door open with more force than he’d planned.

 

“My shop?” she said, a frown between her eyes.

 

“Don’t play dumb Granger. I know how to Google. Gaia’s Pantry is your store. You own the company. You can move it.”

 

“I can’t, all the paperwork has been signed. The research shows that this is the best spot for the shop. There’s no stopping it.” She almost sounded apologetic.

 

Draco turned to face her. “You are not welcome here. Show your face again and I’ll not only jinx the shit out of you, but I’ll call the Muggle police too.”

 

“There’s no need for that,” Granger said. With a final glance, she turned and left. The victory Draco felt was hollow.

 

***

 

“Down with Gaia! Take a Flyer!” 

 

Mack, Manny and Mrs Naidoo’s son, Krish who was in university and always up for a protest, held up homemade placards with the Gaia’s Pantry logo under a red no smoking sign. They had positioned themselves around tea time and hadn’t moved.

 

Bernard was handing out flyers and lecturing passersby about the evils of corporate entities.

 

“They’ll invade our neighbourhood like rats, only rats that will push up the price of coffee and cigarettes and then we’ll be consumed by other corporations. They’ll kill off our identities! Say no to Gaia!” he ranted, pausing to pull a drag from his cigarette.

 

Draco had watched their protest for most of the morning and when there was a lull in business, he stood outside and waited for them to get bored.

 

Granger exited the shop behind the group and walked up to where Bernard was standing, ranting.

 

He watched them exchange words. Granger remained calm and professional while Bernard waved his arms in exasperation.

 

“You stole his shop name!” he heard Bernard shout across the street.

 

“It’s not theft if we are around the corner!” Granger shouted back.

 

“There's never been a true war that wasn't fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right.” Said Bernard. “And I’m right!”

 

“You are delusional and trespassing!” Granger shouted back, hands on her hips.

 

Draco thought briefly about stopping the argument, but found he was enjoying himself far too much. 

 

“You are a corporate minion! Slave to money! Get out of our neighbourhood!” Bernard shouted.

 

Granger’s mobile rang. She answered it, turned to Bernard, sneered and then went back into the shop.

 

The protest group roared in approval and continued their chanting.

 

***

 

A few days later, Hermione burst into the bookstore as the boys were opening a bottle of wine for lunch. She waved her hand through the cloud of smoke and stormed towards the table.

 

“You!” she shouted, pointing a finger at Draco. “Where is it?”

 

Before Draco could open his mouth to reply, Bernard snapped at Granger.

 

“You are not welcome here, you corporate harlot!”

 

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Dr…him!” she said and turned her back on Bernard, who scoffed loudly. “So, where is it?”

 

“Where’s what? Your hairbrush?” Draco responded.

 

Granger’s hand went immediately to her head, her hair pulled back in a tight, neat bun.

 

“You know what. An entire truckload of stock has gone missing.”

 

Draco’s eyes slid towards Mack and Manny, who had suddenly developed a strong interest in the ceiling.

 

“It’s not my problem if your suppliers are unreliable,” he sneered. “Maybe if you weren’t underpaying them, they’d deliver on time.”

 

Granger opened and closed her mouth as if a fish out of water. With a growl, she spun on her heel and left the store, slamming the door behind her with a bang.

 

***

 

Draco’s small victory buoyed him through the day and by the time he logged on that evening, he still wore a smirk.

 

**HerbyNerd** : people are vile loathsome evil little cockroaches!

 

Someone was in a mood.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : bad day?

 

**HerbyNerd** : the worst. Things just keep going wrong.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : anything I can do?

 

**HerbyNerd** : no, not unless you can find a deforming jinx that’s legal.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : glad I won’t be on the receiving end.

 

**HerbyNerd** : I love mankind, it's people I can't stand.

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** wow, you’re on a roll tonight.

 

**HerbyNerd** : I’m sorry. It’s just. I have this work thing that is driving me mad. I’m not the bad guy!

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** you’re not a bad guy to me.

 

**HerbyNerd:** thanks. How are you?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : I’m ok. also have a work thing, but I think it might work out.

 

**HerbyNerd:** that’s good to know.

 

A few minutes passed.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** are you okay?

 

**HerbyNerd:** it’s nothing. It’s embarrassing.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : I doubt that. Come on, what’s bothering you?

 

**HerbyNerd:** I just…

**HerbyNerd:** I’m so stressed out.

**HerbyNerd:** and its…i…

**HerbyNerd:** I think I need a shag.

 

Draco blinked at this. A few times. What was she suggesting?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : so…

 

**HerbyNerd:** told you it was embarrassing.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : not really. Just….unexpected.

 

**HerbyNerd:** now I feel like an idiot.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** don’t. I haven’t had a shag in a very long time.

 

**HerbyNerd:** me neither. I just can’t find the time.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** you should always make time.

 

**HerbyNerd:** then what’s your excuse?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** got me there! I guess I don’t get out much.

 

**HerbyNerd:** me neither. All I do is work.

**HerbyNerd:** I have an idea, but you’re welcome to reject it.

 

Draco was intrigued.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** what do you have in mind?

 

**HerbyNerd:** have you ever had cybersex?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** not that I know of. 

 

**HerbyNerd:** how can you not know if you’ve ever had cybersex before?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : it just sounds odd, like having sex with a robot.

 

**HerbyNerd** : this is a bad idea.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : hey, don’t back down now. You started this. How does one cybersex?

 

**HerbyNerd:** uh, ok, put on your camera, but tilt it so that I don’t see your face (we want to keep this anonymous). My mic doesn’t work, so I guess we’ll have to type.

 

Draco frowned. Did he really want to not see her face? He contemplated the idea, but decided to respect her wishes.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : ok, you do the same.

 

He quickly activated the video chat, and tilted the screen so his face was cut off.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** now what? 

 

He watched as his screen was filled up with a body. A feminine body, clad is an oversized Clash t-shirt.

 

**HerbyNerd** : we…uh…where are you touching me?

 

He bit his lip and scanned the figure on the screen. Her breasts. He wanted to touch her breasts. 

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** your breasts. I want to touch them.

 

He watched as she slid her hand under her t-shirt and cup her breast, the material shifting and moulding around her hand.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : lift your t-shirt.

 

**HerbyNerd:** take off yours first.

 

Draco pulled off his t-shirt and flung it behind him. He watched her chest expand as if she pulled in a sharp breath.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : now yours.

 

She slowly pulled up her t-shirt, revealing a soft, slim torso and pert breasts.

 

**HerbyNerd** : I’m running my hands over your chest.

 

Draco ran his hands across his chest, pretending they were hers.

 

**HerbyNerd:** pinch your nipples.

 

He did and gasped, his hips pressing forward. HerbyNerd dropped a hand to the juncture of thighs, her legs open, and pressed against her denim shorts.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** press there again while fondling your breast.

 

She did as instructed and Draco felt himself press against the zip of his jeans. He popped open the button and pulled the zip down.

 

HerbyNerd had slid her hand into her denim shorts and he could see her fingers press and rub under the material. He noticed the smallest ink spot on her hip. It looked like a tattoo.

 

Draco gripped his cock and began pumping it, keeping his eyes on her as she writhed against her hand.

 

“Dennis! We have a- OHMIGOD!”

 

Draco slammed the screen of the laptop down and hunched over his hand on his cock while glaring over his shoulder at Bernard, who was covering his eyes and groping for the door handle.

 

“For fucks sake Bernard. Get out of here!” Draco shouted, trying to cover his embarrassment and pull his pants back on.

 

“I’m trying,” he said “but I can’t find the door!”

 

“Turn around, you idiot!” Draco got his pants closed and stood up looking for his shirt.

 

Bernard spun on his heel and was now feeling around for the doorknob as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.

 

Draco pulled on his shirt, opened the door and pushed Bernard through. He then slammed the door shut and went to hide in his room.

 

**

 

Mack wore a shit eating grin as Draco entered the store the next day.

 

“What?” Draco asked.

 

“Oh Dennis, Dennis, Dennis,” Mack shook his head.

 

“That’s my name, but I prefer Your Most Esteemed Boss, in future,” he said, heading towards the table that held the coffee machine. As he poured a mug for himself, he realised why Mack was smiling. “Bernard told you, didn’t he?”

 

“Not so much told, as ran into the store, downed half a bottle of wine and grouched about the internet and naked women.” Mack raised an eyebrow. “Never took you for someone who’d cyber.”

 

Draco glared at him.

 

“It’s good to see, well, hear about, you embracing technology. Well done, welcome to the twenty first century.”

 

Draco continued to glare.

 

“So…you don’t want to talk about it?”

 

Draco turned away and decided that the incense display needed rearranging. Mack left him alone to stew in his mood.

 

**

 

As the days grew colder and the leaves turned colour, the opening of Gaia’s Pantry loomed closer until one day, Draco opened his shop to find the window coverings down and people streaming into Gaia’s Pantry.

 

Draco’s regulars promised loyalty and stuck to their word, but Draco knew it wouldn’t last.

 

Bernard wrote missives to the editors of every newspaper in the city and Luna even came to the shop to write an article for _The Quibbler_.

 

For a week or two there was an uproar against the corporate giant killing the independent storekeeper, but the protest soon lost its luster as people got bored and got on with their lives.

 

Draco stood outside his store staring at the huge glass front of Gaia’s and steadily built up the courage to go in. What attracted people there? Were the discounts really that good? Was the selection really that diverse? He turned his back on the store and went upstairs to his flat.

 

His laptop sat open on the kitchen table and a window was blinking at him.

 

**HerbyNerd:** Don’t you love autumn? It reminds me of buying books for school. I want to give you a bouquet of pencil shavings.

 

Draco laughed.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** thank you for the bouquet. I never really liked autumn. It meant going back to school and dealing with teachers and irritating peers. Summer was the best. I would spend all day playing Quidditch.

 

**HerbyNerd:** No offense, but school put me off Quidditch.

 

Draco didn’t know how to respond to that. A witch who didn’t like Quidditch? Obviously she needed to be schooled in the art that was Quidditch.

 

**HerbyNerd:** you okay?

 

Her question came before he could start a thesis on why Quidditch was the best sport ever invented. It seemed sincere enough to deflate his sport-related huff and remind him about his reality.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** work trouble, is all. Nothing to worry about.

 

Obviously they were not going to talk about the aborted cybersex session. There was a long delay before HerbyNerd replied.

 

**HerbyNerd:** do you think we should meet?

 

Draco nearly fell off his chair.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** meet?

 

**HerbyNerd:** forget it. It was just a silly idea.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : no. it sounds like a great idea.

 

Draco cringed as he typed it. Was it really such a good idea?

 

**HerbyNerd:** great. Are you in Edinburgh?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** yes, I am.

 

**HerbyNerd:** brilliant. There’s a nice café about three blocks from the castle. It’s called Tilted Crown.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** I know it.

 

**HerbyNerd:** 8pm. Friday?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** see you there.

 

**HerbyNerd:** How will I recognise you?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** I’ll be reading a Chuck Palahniuk book ;p

 

**HerbyNerd** : great. See you then.

 

Draco signed off and closed the lid. What the hell had he just agreed to?

 

 

***

 

Mack looked somber as he did the month end accounts.

 

“What’s the verdict?” Draco asked.

 

“We’re dead. Maybe a month or two left.” Mack’s mouth was set in a grim line.

 

“Bugger,” Draco sighed, utterly defeated.

 

They had tried to have sales, two for one specials, free samples, but nothing could entice their once loyal customers back.

 

Draco should be feeling as bad as Mack, he recognised, but there was a bounce in his step. He was going to meet HerbyNerd. He had mentally gone through his wardrobe numerous times, rejecting outfit after outfit after outfit, deeming nothing he owned worth wearing on a very special date.

 

Was it a date? He hoped so. It was the light at the end of his very dark tunnel. 

 

He closed the shop early and spent an exorbitant amount of time getting ready. He grabbed the Chuck Palahniuk book on his way out the door and was seated at the café by 7:45pm. He ordered a cup of coffee and tried not to look up every time the door opened.

 

The minutes began to drag by and yet, HerbyNerd did not make an appearance. Draco felt his heart sink into his shoes. His life officially sucked.

 

In an effort to not look like a loser who’d been stood up, he began reading the book he’d brought. He was so caught up, he didn’t notice the door open nor did he notice a woman seat herself across from him.

 

“Isn’t Palahniuk a little progressive for you?”

 

Draco looked up and grimaced. His night took a right turn from bad to downright dreadful.

 

“Granger, go away,” he snapped.

 

“Waiting for someone?” she asked, making herself comfortable and examining the menu in the centre of the table. “I hear they make great sandwiches here.”

 

“That seat is reserved,” Draco said, grabbing the menu out of her hand and setting it back in its lace.

 

Granger smirked and grabbed the menu back. “Looks like you’ve been stood up.”

 

“I guess if it’s happened to you enough, you recognise it, wouldn’t you?” he sneered.

 

She bit her lip and shook her head slightly. “Touché, Malfoy.”

 

“Look, Granger, go away.”

 

“Are you scared she’ll see us together?” Granger called a waiter over and ordered the pastrami on rye with extra pickles. Draco gaped at her sheer audacity. 

 

“Can't you go…sit somewhere else?” he made a shooing motion with his hand.

 

Granger ignored him and picked up his book instead, “Damned,” She read the title and smiled. “Hmmm. Rather apt in this case.”

 

Draco narrowed his eyes at her before whisking his head around at the sound of the door opening. An old lady shuffled in.

 

“That your hot date?” Granger teased.

 

He had had enough. He grabbed his book from her hands, stood in a fluid motion and glared at Granger before leaving the café.

 

All the way home, his mind spun. Why had HerbyNerd stood him up? Had she seen Granger? Had she been in an accident on the way there? Was there an email waiting for him at home? Had he done something to put her off?

 

He could see the light at the end of the dark tunnel flicker and die.

 

**

 

Draco was curled up on his couch, tissues littering the blanket and fighting for space on the coffee table amongst the flu potions and medications and used coffee cups.

 

Downstairs, Mack was doing a final stock count, marking the crates with clearance prices.

 

It had been a week since the date that never happened and Draco’s computer had been silently mocking him from its spot on the coffee table. Not a single email. No IM. Not even a sodding owl with a note had appeared. His life lays in pieces at his feet and Draco couldn’t dredge up the energy to start picking it up.

 

There was a knock on his flat door and before he could blink at the surprise, it opened and in strolled Granger as if she owned the place.

 

“Good afternoon Draco,” she sing-songed as she headed straight to his kitchen. 

 

Draco could only blink as he felt his brain begin to short circuit. Why was she in his flat? What was she doing in his kitchen? Where was Mack? Had she just called him Draco? What was in this flu potion?

 

He struggled to his feet and coughed up half a lung before he could breathe deep enough to argue with her.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, arms akimbo. He made quite the intimidating picture wearing his thickest flannel pjs, thick socks, nose red and voice strangled under the phlegm.

 

“Go sit on the couch, I’ll be right out,” she said, banging pots and pans around.

 

Draco was about to object when his remaining lung decided it wanted to vacate his chest. Granger led him to the couch, tucked him in and handed him a mug of steaming lemon and ginger tea. Draco scowled, but accepted the mug, the heat warming his ice cold hands. He hadn’t even realised they were numb.

 

With a nod, Granger retreated to the kitchen and the banging commenced. She then reappeared in the living room and removed the empty mugs, cleaned up the tissues and abandoned potion vials before disappearing again.

 

Draco couldn’t do a thing but sip at the tea. His mind was too foggy to really comprehend the concept of Granger in his flat, so he accepted it as a hallucination brought on by the stress of losing his life.

 

A few minutes later, Granger walked into the living room, carrying a tray. She carefully settled it on his lap and handed him a spoon.

 

“Go on,” she encouraged. “It’s not poisoned. Just chicken soup. It’ll help.”

 

Draco eyed her wearily, but the soup did smell delicious and all Mack could cook was pot noodles. He dug in. The first sip was intoxicating. Ginger, lemon grass and chicken flavours spread across his tongue, soothing his throat for the first time in days.

 

Granger watched him eat the soup, which in all honesty was a little unnerving, but Draco wasn’t going to stare a soup bearing Granger in the face, especially since the soup in question was amazing.

 

“So, Mack told me you’re hiding up here. And while you can’t speak, maybe you could listen. I’m not this person. I never meant to be this person. Gaia’s Pantry is…it’s not who I am. It was an idea that Blaise took and grew. You’ll never know how sorry I actually am that your shop fell victim to this whole situation.” She wrung her hands and bit her lip. Draco opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words to counter that little speech.

 

“I just…I was thinking…that…well…” watching Granger at a loss for words was not as entertaining as Draco would have imagined. He was feeling magnanimous and contributed it to the soup. He was also starting to droop, sinking lower into the couch. As Granger tripped over her words, Draco’s eyes slipped shut.

 

“…and well, I was hoping we could be friends.” 

 

***

 

Two days later, Draco felt well enough to drag himself downstairs and oversee the final closing of the shop. He locked up, sighed at the For Lease sign, and headed to the bookstore next door.

 

Bernard was sitting behind his desk at the back of the shop glaring at the customers browsing the mystery section. Draco sank into a chair with a sniffle.

 

“Keep your germs to yourself,” Bernard sneered and lit a cigarette.

 

Draco held up a bottle of wine.

 

“In that case, you can stay.” Bernard said, handing over the bottle opener and two mostly clean glasses.

 

Draco opened the bottle and filled the two glasses. Bernard watched Draco sip at his glass, before speaking.

 

“So, what will you do now?” he asked, voice quiet and serious.

 

Draco raised an eyebrow and shrugged. 

 

“You must have some backup plan, surely?” Bernard pressed.

 

“That,” Draco pointed towards his shop, “Was my back up plan.”

 

“Bugger,” Bernard said softly and emptied his wineglass. “Whatever happened to that girl you were chatting to?”

 

Draco blinked in surprise at the question. “She stood me up, but I did get an email from her this morning. Turns out she saw me in the café with Granger. She apologised for being a coward and I think we’re ok.”

 

“Women,” Bernard scoffed.

 

The door to the shop opened with a tinkle and the men ignored it until a shadow loomed over the desk.

 

“You!” cried Bernard looking up. “You shop stealing, life destroying, bushy haired tyrant!”

 

“Bernard!” Draco shouted. “Shut up, it’s just Granger.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Bernard glared at Granger, sinking back into his seat.

 

“What do you want?” Draco asked.

 

“Are you busy?” she asked eyeing the wine glasses. Draco shook his head in response. “Oh, because, well, I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the Christmas market?”

 

Draco shook his head again. 

 

“Oh, well, I…do you…I mean, you don’t have to…it's just…well…who can argue with Christmas lights, you know?” Granger smiled and Draco found himself accepting her jumbled attempt at an invitation. 

 

Wrapped up in a thick coat, scarves and gloves, they caught a bus to the Christmas market. Draco watched her closely and realised she was nervous. The petty part of him wanted her to stew in it. Let her be nervous. She ruined his life. 

 

But the other part that he didn’t really want to acknowledge, the part that noticed how bright her smile was and how her hair smelled of cinnamon, that part nagged him to reassure her.

 

So he smiled. A small quirk of the lips, but she noticed it and seemed to calm down a little.

 

They soon arrived at the Christmas market and began a slow stroll along the stalls. Granger was quiet, looking at the knick knacks available but not really saying much. Draco was perturbed. What was the point of walking around, in the cold if you weren’t going to talk to each other? 

 

They stopped at a stall selling mulled wine and Draco bought two cups, handing one to Granger.

 

“Thank you,” he said.

 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she replied. And that seemed to open the floodgates. For the rest of the evening, they spoke, argued, debated and agreed to disagree on many things. It almost reminded Draco of his conversations with HerbyNerd and his mouth turned down at the thought.

 

“Oh come on,” Granger admonished. “You can’t tell me that the idea of pecan nuts in ice cream is that unappealing.”

 

“It's not that, but for the record, only if they’re dipped in caramel first.”

 

“Then what is it?”

 

“I just…there’s this friend.” He began.

 

“And?” Granger prompted.

 

“And it’s personal.”

 

“So? Maybe I can help?” she pushed.

 

Maybe she was right; after all, HerbyNerd was a girl. And girls understood each other, right? Draco decided to take the chance and test that theory.

 

“There’s this girl I know. Well, not know know, but…we’ve been communicating.” He took a sip of some eggnog they’d just bought.

 

“She was the one who stood you up,” Granger realised. “I’m sorry.”

 

“You should be. You’re the reason she stood me up.” Draco frowned.

 

“You really like this girl, don’t you?” Granger said quietly.

 

Draco nodded. 

 

***

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : it’s amazing how much I can accomplish being without a job.

 

**HerbyNerd** : pray tell.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : I’m writing a book.

 

**HerbyNerd:** what kind of book?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** corset ripper.

 

**HerbyNerd:** …

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : I’m joking. But if I was writing a corset ripper, then I can see you have very little faith in my smut writing skills.

 

**HerbyNerd** : its not that. Its just…a guy writing a corset ripper…bit…odd.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : thank goodness I’m writing a book about potions then.

 

**HerbyNerd** : so you’re a potion master?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : I doubt my old professor would agree, but I like to think so.

 

**HerbyNerd** : maybe you should stick to the corset rippers then.

 

***

 

Draco found himself in his basement sorting out left over stock. The shop had been closed for a week, but he still found something that needed sorting. He heard footsteps clomp down the stairs behind him.

 

“Mack, you’re not getting paid, so why not…”

 

Granger stood on the last step.

 

“You’re not Mack!” he said.

 

“I hope not,” she replied and stepped down. “I was wondering if you were busy. There’s this thing happening at the Castle.”

 

Before Draco could open his mouth to reply, another voice boomed down the stairs. 

 

“Hermione! We have a meeting, you’re late!” bounding steps followed the voice until Blaise Zabini tripped down the stairs and into Granger.

 

“Here you are!” he exclaimed before looking around. “Malfoy? What on earth are you doing here?”

 

Draco glared daggers at Zabini. “Certainly not trespassing like some people.”

 

Zabini had the grace to look abashed. “I didn’t know this was your shop. But I should have guessed when Hermione would get back to the office ready to kill that you had something to do with it.”

 

Draco glared at Granger.

 

“Blaise, we should get going.” She said, pushing Blaise towards the stairs.

 

“You know Draco, we are always looking for people to work for us. I think R&D would benefit from someone like you.” Blaise said over his shoulder as Granger manhandled him up the stairs and out the store.

 

Draco stood like a statue, staring at the spot where Blaise had stood, his words wringing in his ears.

 

***

 

“So are you planning on drawing unemployment for the rest of your days, or have you got something planned?”

 

It was the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Granger had been absent since their run in with Blaise. But she had shown up out of the blue an hour earlier with a few bottles of wine and an apologetic smile on her face.

 

They were sitting on Draco’s roof garden, a warming charm keeping the cold bite out of the air.

 

Granger was leaning against the wall, arms and legs crossed, while Draco sat in his usual spot. The question took him by surprise. No one had asked him about his future since Bernard had done so many weeks ago, and then there was HerbyNerd. She knew everything about him. Well, the important parts anyway.

 

“I don’t know, to be honest.” Draco said, looking down at his fingers as they traced the patterns carved into the wooden patio table. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”

 

“Rubbish,” Ganger said and moved to sit opposite him. “You know potions. You could go teach.” Draco pulled a face at that. “Or you could join the Aurors?”

 

“Now you’re just grasping at straws Granger. I’m not going to be a teacher. I’m not joining the Aurors. I can’t go home and live off a non-existent inheritance.”

 

“What would you say to a job where you could name your salary and hours?”

 

Draco looked up at her. “I’m not going to work for Gaia’s Pantry. Forget it. Talk about kicking a bloke when he’s down.”

 

“I’m not trying to insult you Draco. We need someone to head up R&D, so why not you?”

 

He had long gotten used to her calling him Draco, but now it just sounded patronising.

 

“Because, Granger, working for you would be the final nail in the coffin of my self-respect. I work for no one but myself. That’s the way it will always be.”

 

“Self-respect? Are you kidding me? You spend all day moping around your flat feeling sorry for yourself.” She shouted.

 

“I wouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself if you hadn’t run me out of business!” he shouted back, standing up, his chair skidding back.

 

She pushed away from the wall and stood in front of him. “It wasn’t personal. Merlin, Draco, I’m trying to be your friend here.”

 

“I don’t need your pity friendship,” he growled.

 

“This isn’t pity,” she said, moving into his personal space and then kissing him.

 

Draco froze. Why on earth was Granger kissing him? 

 

She tilted her head and their lips slid together. Draco’s hands wrapped around her waist and ran up her back, grabbing onto the tight bun she wore her hair in.

 

Her hands pressed against his chest, fingers tightening then loosening in spasms like a cat pawing at a blanket.

 

Draco fell into the kiss. It had been such a long time since he’d been kissed and he’d forgotten how nice it actually was. This kiss, however, was far from nice, it seared his lips, burned his bones and sent his blood past boiling point. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, pressing his tongue against her lips. 

 

She opened her mouth and sucked him in, their tongues meeting and massaging each other. Draco was getting dizzy and he wasn’t sure if it was the lack of oxygen or because she was overwhelming his senses.

 

She pressed closer, her hands running down his chest to the hem of his jersey. Grabbing it, she pushed up, catching his shirt along the way and exposing his abdomen to the chilly air. He grabbed at her layers of sweaters and vests and wrenched them up. Her arms lifted and he pulled them off, before pressing against her, feeling her skin warm his.

 

The kiss broke and he attached himself to her neck, sucking, nibbling, licking. Her knees buckled and he held on tighter, his hands unhooking her bra. 

 

She popped open the button on his jeans and pulled down the zip, pushing them down hip hips. Goose bumps rose on his skin in the wake of her hands. She stepped back, and grabbed his jersey and shirt, pulling them up and over his head.

 

For a moment, they both stilled, looking at each other. Him in only his pants, jeans around his ankles, her topless, her jeans hanging low on her hips, nipples pebbling in the chill. A love bite was blooming on her neck just below her ear.

 

She took a deep breath, and unbuttoned her jeans, pushing them to the ground. Hermione moved to take a step and stumbled slightly. Draco tried to step forward and stumbled himself. They both looked down and huffed a laugh.

 

“Stupid boots,” Hermione grumbled and bend down to untie the laces. Draco followed suit after staring at the line of her back for a few moments. 

 

As they straightened and kicked off their pants, Draco’s common sense returned.

 

“Are we really going to do this?” He whispered.

 

Hermione smiled, and nodded before stepping closer until she was flush against him.

 

“Unless you don’t want to?” She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

 

With a growl, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. He picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist and turned to balance her on the edge of the table. The fingers of his right hand ran along her back, her sides, her hips until they reached her panties. His left hand stayed tangled in her hair, tugging at the bun, unraveling it until the curls fell wild and loose down her back.

 

Pressing against her panties, his fingers felt the slide of the material against her heat and it sent a delicious shiver through his entire body. He pushed the material aside, his fingers tangling in her curls. She ground against his fingers, rotating her hips, trying to get his fingers slip into her.

 

As he pulled his fingers away, she growled and bit at his collarbone. His hands scrambled against her panties, twisting and pulling at the material and elastic until the material ripped and he pulled them from her hips.

 

Her hands, in retaliation, tore at his pants, fingers slipping under the elastic and ripping it down his legs, his cock finally free. She didn’t stop there, wrapping her fingers around his length and pumping him without mercy. Draco’s thighs trembled as he tried to maintain control. 

 

He grabbed her hips and pulled her against him, her wet cunt rubbing against his cock, her fingers catching her clit with every stroke she gave him.

 

Draco cupped her face, pressing kisses to her lips until they were both gasping for breath. He felt her guide him to her opening, swaying forwards where she sat. He felt the warmth and drove his hips forwards.

 

Hermione gasped and Draco froze.

 

“Fuck, did I hurt you?” he asked, hips shaking from not bucking further.

 

Hermione shook her head, grabbed his arse and pressed him further into her.

 

“Just. Been. A. Long. Time.” She grit out, squeezing his ass and keeping him moving in and out.

 

He gripped the table as it shuddered with every stroke.

 

The air between then grew hot, despite the chill in the air. Sweat dripped slowly down his chest, landing on her breasts causing them to slip and slide against him.

 

He could feel the burn in his thighs and his balls begin to tighten, her walls grew tighter and tighter around him until the world blurred and seemed to freeze around them. It was just him and Hermione left in the world and the slow burn in his groin.

 

All too soon the world sped up and he felt her come with a gasp. He finally let go and came. 

 

***

 

He slowly came back into himself and carefully pulled out. Hermione closed her legs, jumped off the table and grabbed her clothes before placing a peck on his cheek and leaving.

 

As he watched her leave, Draco felt the winter chill in his bones.

 

***

 

Draco stared at his computer screen. There were dozens of missed messages from HerbyNerd all asking the same thing: had she done something wrong? 

 

She hadn’t. He was the one to fuck this up. He totally cheated on her. With Granger!

 

Ok, so the sex was hot, but after his brain returned, he knew that is was the worst thing he could have done.

 

He sighed and began to type a reply, but nothing seemed like it was the right thing to say.

 

His door banged open and Mack, Bernard and Manny fell through the entrance.

 

“Dennis! Dennis! Join us! We’re celebrating!” Bernard shouted, settling himself on the couch and pushing Draco’s laptop away and dumping a bag clinking with wine bottles in its vacated space.

 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“What are we celebrating?” he asked, not really caring about the answer.

 

“There’s two more days left of this crappy year!” Manny said, clapping his hands.

 

Bernard glared at him. “I was going to say that.”

 

Manny shrugged.

 

Mack, being the amazing former shop assistant that he is, poured a full glass of wine and handed it to Draco, who took a large sip.

 

“I’ll drink to that,” Draco said, raising his glass for a moment before draining it.

 

Mack gave up on the glass and handed Draco the entire bottle.

 

Maybe the answer to his problem was at the bottom of that bottle. Or maybe the next.

 

***

 

It was New Year’s Eve, and Draco stood in his kitchen staring at the party invitation he had received weeks ago from Blaise. At first, he wanted to tear it up and return it to Blaise in a million pieces, but Granger had persuaded him to go anyway. He could get back at Blaise by drinking all the champagne and having a shag on his pool table. It seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. But since they shagged, Granger was no longer talking to him, he didn’t think he’d be as welcome.

 

Bernard had invited him to join Mack, Manny and himself at a party they were hosting in the bookstore. Bernard had promised a full guest list, but seeing as how he hated most people he met, Draco was sure it’d be just the four of them smoking, drinking wine and arguing over the stupidest things until the clock struck twelve.

 

When compared to Blaise’s’ invitation, it was the lesser of two evils, actually. 

 

His laptop screen chirped with a message box. Draco sat down and opened it.

 

**HerbyNerd** : Hello? Are you there? Are you even alive?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : been better.

 

**HerbyNerd** : so is there a reason you’ve been ignoring me?

Draco chose to ignore her question. He wasn’t sure how to answer it without coming across as a total wanker.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : what are you doing online? Don’t you have some hot ticket party to go to?

 

**HerbyNerd:** yes. Don’t you?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : I’m still trying to decide.

 

**HerbyNerd** : should we give this meeting thing another go?

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine** : that’s an invitation I can’t refuse.

 

**HerbyNerd:** I’ll be at the Ambassador Hotel, Ballroom 1. I’ll be wearing a green dress.

 

**GiveTheDragonSomeWine:** I’ll see you there.

 

Draco logged off, flew through the shower and got dressed in his best suit. He ran downstairs, had a quick drink with the boys and left for the Hotel.

 

As he walked, there was something about the hotel name that rang a distant bell, but Draco pushed it aside and tried to slow his heart down. This was it. Tonight he was going to meet HerbyNerd. Maybe this would be the first step to a better year ahead.

 

After about 20 minutes, he reached the hotel. It was bustling with people, dressed warmly against the winter chill. He slipped into the foyer and followed the signs leading to Ballroom 1.

 

He paused at the door, adjusted his tie, took a deep breath and braced himself before entering the room.

 

The noise was almost deafening. The DJ was playing the Spice Girls, colognes mixed with perfumes, making the air heavy and the humidity rose in the crush of people. 

 

Draco pushed forwards until he was halfway across the hall, eyes scanning for a woman in green. Everyone seemed to be in either black or red or blue. No green, not a scrap. As Draco was about to give up and go drink himself into oblivion with Bernard and the boys, his attention was drawn to a stage at the end of the room.

 

A hush had fallen over the crowd as they waited for the MC to begin.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the annual Gaia’s Pantry New Year’s Eve Bash. And here to welcome you further are your hosts, Blaise Zabini and Hermione Granger!”

 

Draco’s jaw nearly hit the floor. What the fuck was going on? He watched as Zabini led Granger onto the stage to where the microphone was standing.

 

She was wearing a ball gown the colour of emeralds.

 

HerbyNerd said she’d be wearing a green dress to this party.

 

Was Hermione Granger his HerbyNerd?

 

Could it be possible?

 

He stood there, ignoring Zabini charm his guests and instead focused on the conundrum Granger had just presented.

 

She must be HerbyNerd. But why did it have to be her? He was sure, until a few second ago that HerbyNerd was the girl of his dreams. Only, now she looked more like the girl who destroyed him. Yes, she did give him chicken soup when he was sick. And their days spent together weren’t awful. In fact, now that he thought about it, Granger and HerbyNerd were a lot alike. 

 

Granger and Blaise had finished their speeches and made their way to the main floor. The crowd parted as Granger wove towards where he stood. She stopped two steps away from him and had the decency to blush.

 

“You’re HerbyNerd?” he spluttered.

 

Hermione nodded, a smile spreading across her face.

 

“You fucking bitch,” Draco spat. “You think messing with my head is some kind of joke?”

 

“No, Draco, I wasn’t…it’s not…” Hermione stuttered, reaching for his hand.

 

“No! I’m not some pity case you can fuck and then make a fool of.” He said, his voice rising.

 

“Draco, I didn’t know. I didn’t…”

 

“I bet you and Blaise laughed for hours after you told him how you screwed with my head and then screwed me. It wasn’t enough to steal my business, you stole my self-respect. So, how much do I owe you?”

 

Hermione gasped and slapped him across the face.

 

“You fucking wanker.” She hissed and turned on her heel.

 

Draco held a palm to his throbbing cheek and made his way home.

 

***

 

The streets were crowded with revelers all celebrating the new year. If anyone had asked Draco, he’d have told them that they could shove their new year where the sun didn’t shine.

 

He slouched into Bernard’s bookstore and sat into a chair while Manny had the Royal Variety show playing in the background while Bernard grouched about the monarchy.

 

Mack took a seat next to Draco and handed him a bottle of cheap champagne. He grimaced at the bubbles as they burned down his throat.

 

“Should I get ice for that cheek?” he asked.

 

Draco shrugged.

 

“Mack! Mack! Come outside!” cried Manny “I think there are shooting stars!”

 

Mack gave Draco a look and followed Manny outside.

 

Bernard grew bored with verbally abusing the royal family and took Mack’s seat.

 

“So, no date?” he asked, lighting a cigarette and offering one to Draco, who shrugged. “You know, you should go meet that internet girl of yours. She seems nice.”

 

Draco dropped his head into his hands. “It’s a little complicated.”

 

“Complicated how?”

 

“She is Hermione.”

 

“Hermione?”

 

“Bushy haired corporate harlot, as you know her.”

 

“Aaaahhh,” Bernard swigged some champagne. “So, you’re telling me that you’ve been seeing the same girl on and offline?”

 

Draco nodded.

 

“Then what’s the problem? You obviously like her.”

 

“She played me for a fool.”

 

“That’s what women are meant to do. God tells them before they come down – find a man and fuck with his head for shits and giggles.”

 

Draco huffed a laugh. “She lied to me about who she was.”

 

“As if you haven’t been doing the same,” Bernard gave him a pointed look.

 

“Got me there. Mack, I presume?”

 

“No, my Aunt Matilda.”

 

Draco let that lie and lit up a cigarette.

 

“You know what I don’t get,” Bernard spoke up. “You actually like this girl. Like, really like her. And now you’re choosing to be sad and alone on New Year’s Eve with us fuckers.”

 

“It’s not that bad.”

 

“It’s worse. Listen here. I’ve watched you open the store next door, live a lonely life and I don’t think you want that. But I think you think it’s all you deserve.”

 

Draco stayed quiet, examining the wine bottle in his hands.

 

“You can’t punish yourself for the past. Go start your life. I know you want it to be with her, despite this little set back.”

 

“Lying to me is not a little set back. It’s a big thing! She was one person online and another in real life. Its… disconcerting.”

 

“Now stop acting like an Austen character! You know I think she’s an evil wench, but, to be honest, she made you happy. So let her keep making you happy, you idiot.”

 

“I never thought I’d experience the depths of your wisdom.” Draco smiled.

 

“It’s only as deep as this bottle,” Bernard said and shouted for Manny to get back inside, before he catches a cold leaving Bernard to do the laundry.

 

Draco thought about Bernard’s words. He did like HerbyNerd. In fact, he knew he loved her. But at the same time, Hermione had crawled under his skin. She was the same person though. And she knew. She knew about it the whole time. 

 

But the Hermione he knew wouldn’t play with his head. She’d punch him in the head, but mind games weren’t her thing. So why the deceit? What was her angle?

 

Draco stood up suddenly and realised he had to speak to her immediately.

 

He left the store, ignoring the shouts of his friends and headed back towards the hotel. 

 

Blaise met him on the steps.

 

“She left,” he said. “And you deserved that,” he pointed to the hand print on Draco’s cheek.

 

“Where’d she go?” He snapped.

 

“Where do you think?” Blaise said and nodded towards the store.

 

Draco turned around and muttered about women and having to backtrack, through the cold and snow to find her.

 

He banged on the glass doors of Gaia’s Pantry, shouting at Granger to open up. After what felt like an eternity, she opened the door, dressed in her warmest dressing gown and slippers.

 

“What?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Come to scream names at me again?”

 

“No,” Draco said in a quiet voice.

 

“Because I’m sorry Draco, okay? I’m sorry I lied. I just…”

 

“Shut up,” said Draco. “Just… I have something to tell you. I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

 

Hermione pulled him through the door and wrapped her arms around him.

 

“I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

 

“I’m so glad it’s you.” He smiled.

 

He bent his head closer and kissed her. He didn’t care that it wasn’t midnight.

 

The End


End file.
